


Friction

by bela013



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are very few things that felt like his red witch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friction

The hill of her hands dug into his chest, making it difficult to breathe, and if she had said anything before this all started, I'm sure that I would have called for the guards and imprisoned her for an attempt on my life.

But this was a game, her game, and I wasn't even part of it, I was all but a toy. What a great fall for a king, to not even be part of the musings that crossed the mind of the priestess that crowned him as her own messiah.

Her long nails clipped around his nipples, and her sweet laugh was only a mockery to my pain, but the motion of her hips managed to console him a little. There was an cruel voice in the back of my head that accused me of being weak, but there was no weakness in having both my wrists and ankles bound to the bed posts, if it could make her smile so freely.

Sweat purred down her face, clinging her red hair to her pale face, making it look like blood was dripping from her hair. It was a terrible and beautiful sight, just like the woman who bared her body to me.

Long legs, warm around his, warm ever over the legs of his pants, the warmth of her cunt over came all that was above me, demanding my full attention, even if I had no freedom of movement to do a thing about it. Melisandre seamed to be quite fine with my powerless position, for all she did about it, was to buck her hips against my thigh, making his pants feel more uncomfortable than the ropes around his wrists.

It's with a sigh that I watch her take the last layer of cloth that remained between them, her petticoat was not as red as her dress, it was an delicate thing of a pink color, almost alien to her whole persona. Even so, the red was back when under the girlish cloth, I could see the thick red hair that covered her lady parts. Scoffing about my own choice of words, I earn a reproachful look from her, after all, she just exposed herself to me and all I can do is laugh. I felt dread clouding my mind as a wicked smile spread on her face, twisting her mouth and baring her teeth at me, almost like a wild animal.

And it's with a muffed moan from her that she moves her body upwards, hip on hip, her red cunt on him, but not allowing me to enter her as she would have normally allowed by now. No, this was her punishment, letting me feel her this close, but not letting me enter her.

Looking down, I see a translucent liquid come from the tip of his member, in drops much like dew, dripping on the dark hair that trailed upwards to his navel, smearing onto her own hair. The things he learned all his life taught him not to enjoy this, that there was no pleasure for a men who let a woman rule him in bed. But even if his mind was to deny it, something he didn't really felt like doing at the moment, his body would never. I was coming undone by her ministration, the frantic movements on him, her lips parting to engulf him, denying him entrance, but pleasuring him all the same.

And with a scream, my scream, I truly melt against her. Could he call that a seed if there was nothing to grow from that? Did it matter what it was called as it keep coming, causing his whole body to tighten, as if squeezing all of that white viscous liquid out of him. Like the pleasure came, it was replaced by something close to pain, for Melisandre didn't stop, she was still hot above my sensitive skin.

I grit my teeth, she won't make me beg her to stop. The white liquid covered his stomach now, filling his belly button, there was never this much of it before. She was milking him dry, that witch, who ruled his body as well as he ruled an army. The pain was weird, taking the little control I had of my body from me, making me spasm under her, terrible and incredible at the same time.

With a loud moan from her, I know that there will be a long while until she tires from this game and releases me from her tight knots.

**Author's Note:**

> Anon on tumblr prompted me with frottage for Melisandre/Stannis. I must say, this feels like the best smut fic I've written, I'm quite proud of myself.


End file.
